It is the calm and silent water that drowns a man
by CampariOrange96
Summary: "I'm… not… I… need... air!" the man croaked when the tie enclosed his throat and carved into his skin. / 'Maybe I'm gonna freeze to death and not drown.' A wave collided with him and he was ducked under water for what seemed like the thousandth time this hour. He slumped against the rocks, exhaustion finally winning.
1. Chapter 1

**It is the calm and silent water that drowns a man.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hawaii Five-0.**

Well, I'm quite excited because I really put some time into my first fanfiction to make it special. Actually, this is only a short extract of it and if you enjoy it I will certainly post the following chapters :) I hope you'll have fun reading it and review please!

I'm sorry that it was so hard to read, I didn't know it would come out like this, like I said, it's my first fanfic :) So here's the edited chapter!

H50

The water was rising (or he was tiring of keeping his head above the water and his skull was slumping deeper and deeper) and he wondered how long it would take for the water to reach the part of his face his airways were positioned.

_Maybe a few hours. _

He had no idea how many hours already had passed, but he knew he was tired, hungry, cold and grumpy. Grumpy because of the attack. Was it an attack? Maybe it was just an accident. Accident.

_Really? You think you are cuffed to a rock by accident? What have they done to me? Me? Me…? Who am I? _he had wondered briefly before he snapped back into focus and his mind cleared once again.

_Have they burned down your brains? No, not burned, that's not right, 's too cold for it, maybe they froze it down. It that even possible? Can somebody's brain be frozen away? _

His teeth were chattering and he just wanted to hug his own body, which was, unfortunately, not possible in his current position with his hands chained away. He had almost lost the feeling in his feet and gradually, his whole legs started to become limp. _Maybe I'm gonna freeze to death and not drown. _He coughed, knowing there would be a high risk of catching pneumonia if he stayed any longer in this wet surrounding. Or hypothermia.

_People die from hypothermia, don't they? Wherefrom do I know that? Wait… who am I again?_

H50

As he regained consciousness, his first thought was _what the hell…? _

His stomach was protesting loudly, almost roaring, and he gulped as bile rose in his throat, forcing it down again because he knew he would choke on his own vomit. He was gagged. He moaned as the world was shaken, his already messed up head crashing onto the hard ground of something, causing the bile to climb up again. Slowly, he became aware he was in a car and the world hadn't been shaken, but the vehicle had probably hit a bump.

"Hey, look who's waking up there, Phil!" a man with a rusty-sounding, dark voice snarled and kicked the side of the man lying on the ground with his foot, after which he let out a groan again.

The other person, _Phil_, started sneering and added, "Our little princess," after letting out a burp (which, by the way, _really _stank).

If he hadn't been gagged, he would have told the man it was be very impolite to belch in front of other being living without apologizing. But he had been gagged and, to be honest, he didn't really care about someone's burp right then. He was just wondering _where _he was, _who _captured him and, the most important point for him - _how the hell can I get out of this mess_?

H50

Another wave crashed over him. He broke beyond the surface and drew in a deep breath, which he coughed out again, desperately trying not to pull at his ribs. His mind had cleared a little bit and the fog had settled down, at least for most of the time now. Recently, he had found out some of his ribs were broken, cracked and others 'only' badly bruised. It was really hard to swim like that, he was slipping under the surface not just for once. It was, well, multitasking.

_Breathe. Kick your legs. Keep your head above the water. Breathe. Cough. Do not inhale fluids. Breathe. Don't move your left arm too far away from your body. Groan. Breathe. KICK! Let out a melodramatic breathe. Breathe in. Kick. Cough. Breathe._

He had started jolting at the handcuffs until his wrists were bloody and bruised and when he examined the cuffs, he saw it wasn't a complex cuff – it had only 4 screws which were holding the handcuffs together; actually it should be easy to open them. _Actually. _He had the idea to lean his feet on the wall and press himself against the hold, which was a little, but steady handle, until it should gave in (the handcuffs and the hold were connected by a chain). But it didn't, it didn't even move under his weight- not even a _little. _

Instead of being successful, he noticed something was hurting on the left side of his body. When he scanned his abdomen he recognized dark circles of bruises around his stomach and ribs. "Shit," he breathed out, coughing. _Heeeey, you already knew that, huh? What have they done to me that's making me so damn confused? … I hate, hate, __**hate **__concussions._ He sniffed, knowing he had to create an idea to escape- before even the last of his control would be drowned like a fish in the sea. He chuckled, _drowned like a fish in the sea. I didn't know fishes could drown._

He shook his head, seconds later knowing that was a bad idea when his vision blacked out a moment. He breathed through the pain and after a few minutes he was inhaling normally again. It was getting dark outside, the sun set and he already saw the stars reflecting in the waves.

He could see it, the end of the cave, he could almost 'touch' it – he and the freedom were only separated by a few feet. _That's not going to make you any happier._ What would his friends do now? Watching TV? Surfing? Hell- why didn't he just thought of that earlier? What if the cave was next to a beach? _Well, it's almost nighttime, you dumbass. But wait- aren't there always some crazy people enjoying a little swim in the night?_

"Help," he attempted, but all what came out was a squeaky voice, one he never had heard before and he was ashamed of. He cleared his throat and made another try. "HELP!" _Ahhh, lot's of better. _"SOMEBODY HELP!" He cried until his voice was strained, but nobody replied, his own scream's echo was the only thing answering him.

H50

"Phil, be a little more careful with him, we need our little _Barbie_," the man with the darker voice growled, though couldn't help but chuckle when he watched his friend throwing the captured into a corner, causing a loud moan from him.

"Well, let's free him from the blindfold and the gag, huh?" Phil nodded and went over to the man on the floor, pulling the things roughly out of his face. "You sick son of a..." He was trailed off by a foot slamming into his stomach, causing him to double over in coughing. After it subsided, he looked up through watery eyes, teeth gritted, observing the two laughing men.

They were wearing masks, those creepy Halloween masks people were putting on to scare the shit out of you, and he shivered at their appearance. "You're just sick," he managed, but then leaned forward to spit out the contents of his stomach in a noisy gulp. The guys were making a face when the smell hit their nose. The imprisoned himself turned up his nose at the stench, feeling like being sick again.

The dark sounding man saw the uneasiness and said, "you know, if you'll be cooperative we could think about cleaning up this place."

"Go. To. Hell."

"Lovely. So," the man clasped his hands together, "your name is?" The injured man didn't dare to open his mouth (he wouldn't have anyway) because he probably would throw up again and he wasn't so hot on having more puke to admire. "He asked you about your name," Phil said aggressively.

He chose to play dumb and to let nothing leave his lips.

"Look, Phil, he's a big head. Too bad for you," he turned to face the fallen and took his head between his thumb and fingers, squeezing his lips, "that we already know your name. What sort of kidnappers would we be if we wouldn't, huh?" He let the wounded drop again, his head down to the ground.

"Oh, and sorry for forgetting to invite you to come with us voluntarily in first place, you probably could have saved that bump on your head. Your ride could have been more relaxing for you, too, but now that you're already here- welcome to our, and now yours, too, modest home, _Detective Danny Williams_."

H50

Cold. It was so _damn _cold. Lt. Commander Steve McGarrett tried to close his blue-tinged lips to avoid his teeth clattering out of it.

_They really should hurry up if they want me back living and not like as icicle. _

A wave collided with him and he was ducked under water for what seemed like the thousandth time this hour. He inhaled deeply when he was above the water again, he was really getting tired of this. But this was not how _Lt. Commander Steve McGarrett _would die. Never.

_Come on, Steve, wake up the SEAL in you and get the hell out of here._

He leaned back against the hole's wall when suddenly something in his nose tickled and he rose up his nose, raised his head and let out a loud sneeze, which threw him against the wall of rocks. His vision went black for a few seconds, Steve's stomach flip-flopped and he retched into the water in front of him, barely missing his body (it really wasn't easy to stay over the water when you are puking _and _you have to move your almost limp legs further).

_Looks like somebody got a concussion aaaand a cold? I thought a SEAL wouldn't get sick, huh? s_creamed a familiar voice in his head, sounding a lot like Danny.

Coughing into the blue, his vision returned, a bit foggy and the world was swaying, his head buzzing. As he watched his vomit floating away, he silently wished it wouldn't be tossed back at him with the next wave. Another sneeze exploded, his headache worsened with it and after all his entire nose was stuffed and his brains jam. The SEAL closed his eyes and leaned back on the wall, his mind unconsciously drifting to the day he had been kidnapped.

"_No, I won't, Danno. I'll go home and then straight to bed," Steve croaked and interrupted his highly amusing partner, who couldn't believe what he just heard. _

_He himself wasn't feeling too well the last days, but it was nothing. He couldn't dwell on being sick and so he just pushed on with Tylenol and cough drops, and even though NyQuil sounded like paradise it would be knocking him out and he couldn't afford sleeping right then. But the scumbag was caught now and he was finally able to pass out on the couch what he hadn't done four days._

_"Wha… what?! Who are you and what have you done with my partner? I mean- you're not going for a swim or so? Nothing like that crazy SEAL shit?" "Danny, you know I'm going to…" Danny let out a breath he had, eyes wide open, held in. "Whoa, you never do this again, I almost thought you maybe have been abducted by aliens and they had made something experimentally with your brains. Not that there's much to find in your head. " Steve shook his head, sniffling. "You're really entertaining, you know?" "I'm entertaining? I'm entertaining? YOU are entertaining, believe me, my friend, if anybody decides to make a daily soap out of your life his channel would have the greatest rate of audience pursuing your big stunts and screaming like hell when you have been tracked down by a perp just to see you beat him down the next moment, your shiny, dark hair flying in the wind and your biceps looking strained. The girls would faint like they do when Justin Bieber's on stage. Stop laughing, believe me, you'd be the star of the year." _

When something cold hit his face he needed a few seconds to orientate, blinking irritated when he found himself still handcuffed in the cave.

God, he was so very tired. He couldn't remember ever feeling so tired in his whole life. The Navy was nothing in comparison to this. Okay, that surely was an exaggeration, he decided. But when he thought of it… he really hadn't had a good night's sleep since four (or five?) days. A few naps in between, but nothing more than six hours in total.

With that contemplation swirling around his concussed head, he slumped against the rocks, exhaustion finally winning.

H50

His head was pounding when he awoke. Danny cracked his eyes, seeing a bare, gray room in front of him. Wanting to rub his eyes, he tried to draw his hands, but only shook at his strings.

_What the…?_

Then everything came back in one big hit, he felt overwhelmed with all the information and almost threw up.

The short cop had the vague memory he had been hit several times into his best part, other parts and into his face for other million times before the _bad men_ left him alone. He felt his left eye swelling shut and he wet his split lips with the moisture left in his mouth.

Danny knew he had to get out of this here and _now. _

There was just that _one little _problem. He didn't have the slightest idea how he could put that into action.

So he decided to investigate his own situation. A gash in his face was still bleeding, trailing down the side of his head- by the way, he was kind of lightheaded, maybe there were too many hits to it than he could have used. Not that he could have used it anyway. He, then, tried to figure out why somebody possibly would capture him. Did he anything wrong? Okay, he was a cop, in some people eyes everything he did was wrong.

_But what if it is one of Steve's crazy friends again? Okay, that's not logical. McGarrett isn't even here. That moron probably enjoying a beer right now. And what would they want to do with you? They couldn't do anything with me… Shit. Maybe they want to use me as bait. Bait… they could use a chicken as bait. They're so much tastier than me. Did I ever ask McGarrett if he like chicken?_ _Maybe he's sleeping out his cold._ Danny felt the need to laugh at that. _Definitely he is __**not**__ doing this, maybe he's chasing a man down. Yeah, sounds like the Steve i know. Maybe he's eve picking up chicks with his six-pack? A_nd then wandered his muddled mind back to the day of happening, too.

"_I warn you, if you gonna call me tonight, I WILL rip you apart with my bare hands, I promise," Danny threatened his partner, his index finger sticking out in a gesture of warning. _

_"Hell, Danny, you really seem menacing with that look on you face. Like a little gnome." He burst out in laughter (it was more like a cough, but Danny was sure he wanted to laugh) with Danny's face. _

_He knew that Steve was sick, he knew it the minute he came into the office six days ago. The pale SEAL was sniffling, coughing, sneezing and looking like absolute shit with the heavy, gray bags under his blood-shot eyes, and, not to be forgotten, he came in __**late**__. _

_The Jersey had of course tried to send him home, but it was useless because they were in the middle of a cruel case and they just had to catch that asshole before he could touch another kid's head and even though he hated to admit it, Steve had been right when he said they would need every uniform they could get and that, unfortunately, included that snuffling-bug-monster next to him._

_They got the perp and everything went well, Danny could punch that son of a bitch in the face and somewhere in the area of the groin and now, everybody could go home, take a shower and catch up the lack of sleep._

_"Ha-ha, you think you're witty, don't ya? I'm really sorry to disappoint you, babe, but you're not even remotely funny." He stepped into his Camaro and waited for Steve to join him- __**he **__himself was driving his car that time and if that wasn't indicating how shitty his partner was feeling the closing of his eyes after he had slipped into the passenger seat was. _

_"Seatbelt," ordered Danny and the brunette buckled it up as he was told to do._

_Steve used the back of his hand to rub over his nose and sniffled, turning his head to the window to lean it upon it. He stifled a cough that dared to pass his lips with a forceful blow and swallowed dryly. _

_"Water?" he simply asked and he heard his partner rummaging through something and then a bottle was thrown into his lap, startling the SEAL. He nodded his thanks, unscrewed the cap and took a long pull, the lukewarm liquid running down his sore throat, calming it. Just as he wanted to give it back to Danny the Detective said, "you can have it if you want. No need to spread your germs any further."_

_"I've no germs, Danny. You're overreacting. I'm perfectly fi-fi-achump!" He swirled his head around to sneeze in the nook of his arm. _

_"I… What? I'm overreacting? You're saying you'd have no germs and then you share them with me by sneezing the next moment and I'M OVERREACTING? Are you serious? I'm not the one who's looking like he could collapse right in front of me…" "You haven't looked in the mirror, have you?" "…and I will NOT drag your big ass out of this car if you do so because you, Super SEAL, you're sick and I told you so and you didn't listen to me," he kept on, ignoring his partner's answer totally._

_Silence. _

_"Stop pouting, Rambo." "'m not poutin', Danno." Steve's head was once again resting against the cool window. "Uh-huh and I'm Obama. You know, you somehow look adorable so quiet." "Nob'dy can look quiet." A few seconds later he opened his eyes and faced Danny._

_"And I should definitely not look adorable t' ya." _

_He settled back into the passenger seat and let his head fall back onto the headrest. Steve was cold now, shivering and hugging his own body. The cough somehow managed to pass his sealed lips and hacking shook his body._

_"Cover your mouth, damn it, what's so freakin' difficult about it? Not only that you're the whole time a menace to me by just being you, but you're just spreading all your tiny, evil germs in my car – the car I love and __**I'm**__ sitting in! So could you be so nice… are you even listening to me?"_

_Danny threw a glance from the road to the person slumped in the seat next to him. "Steve?"_

_Nothing._

_"Steven?" He waited a moment and eyed his partner. _

_"He just fell asleep while I was talking to him?" Sticking out his lip, he turned his attention back to the street in front of him. _

The door swung open and a thin man, more exactly a boy, appeared in his sight, wearing a mask that was just covering his upper face, his nose and his mouth were open to watch. The other men he saw yesterday weren't present, only that boy, maybe in his early twenties.

"Hello, Detective," he greeted the beaten Danny, who was drifting away again.

_The voice is so soft and calm, soothing. I like that. _Examining the body and the voice, he decided to name him David_. It's a little nice David, not so bad as the guys yesterday. Was it yesterday? What day is today? Is it weekend? No, no wait… it was Thursday the day I had been taken. I think it was Thursday at least. Maybe not, maybe…_

"_Detective_! I asked you something!" He was pulled out of his rather puzzled thoughts forcefully as 'little nice David' hold Danny up on his tie.

_Bad David, baaaaaaaaad David!_

"I'm… not… I… need... air!" the Jersey croaked when the tie enclosed his throat and carved into his skin. The man let go of him quickly after he noticed he had been a bit rough, clearing his throat.

"How did you sleep?" he asked a bit sheepishly now, like a whole different person. "I bet better than you have," came the biting answer from the downed cop, "what do you want from me?" Danny wasn't in the mood to play any games with anybody.

"Let's call it revenge," the man said smugly (Danny was sure the boy wanted to appear menacing), considering the dirt beyond his fingernails. The way he looked Danny was sure he would…

_Oh god! He really did it!_

The man had started picking at them with his mouth. _Sickening David._

"What for?" he finally choked out, still watching disgusted the happening.

"You will found out soon enough, Detective, and be sure, you will regret what you and your partner did."

The word 'partner' hit him hard. _Steve? What the hell?! If that scumbag touched a hair on his head…Oh god, he was in the car with you, in the car!_

"What partner?" he tried to get as much information out of that man as he could, but he had to be clever. "Ah, c'mon, that gorilla of yours, that big guy, dark hair, muscles, tattoos. Was with you when we took you both." Steve. That was Steve. He felt the anger in his soul increase, knowing he would explode anytime soon. But first he had to think clear, to know more about his friend's situation.

"I don't like him, anyway," he said flatly, no emotions passing his cracked lips. The man's eyes finally darted up, staring into Danny's blues, maybe searching for any feeling, and he cocked an eyebrow.

"You don't like him? You can't say you don't like him. He's your friend." "Nobody has ever said that." "But, but," the man stuttered, not knowing what to answer as he observed the emotionless face, "but I saw you sharing a drink with him!"

_Ha, we've got our puzzled David. And stalker David._

"I watched you showing him your little girl and…" _Gracie?! Has he just mentioned HIS Gracie? That guy was dead. _

"…I saw your expressions. You like him, I know it! You were in the car with him, driving around, I saw you!" He sounded despaired and Danny almost chuckled because he didn't know it would be so easy to put him out conception. _Now, that's a rookie by book! _

"No, it was just, you know, it was more like pretending. I never liked him." _Sorry, sorry, sorry Steve. _"He's stubborn, hell, he's a big-head, the biggest stubborn _boss_ the world knows and he's just such a smartass, he's putting himself into danger for nothing and I would love to punch him into his face the most of the day. The other part of it I just hope he doesn't get me, too, killed and well, he's an asshole." It was strange how easily this words flooded out of him, it wasn't like it wasn't at least a bit true, right?

"But I bet you don't want him getting killed!" the boy called out. Danny swallowed, feeling a lump rise in his throat. "Maybe, maybe not. It's … I don't care." "He's drowning right now."

_Drowning? Aquaman? Never. No that won't be possible… Will it? No, not Steve. _

"You know, he definitely wasn't looking too good when I saw him the last time," _David _casted a glance at his watch, "so he's probably taking in his very last breathes. My friend's are watching him on a screen right now. I watched him, too, and he is dying like a fish on land, just that he's a man in water. And I thought SEALs were like fishes." He let out a loud laughter. "How wrong I was."

S_ick, sick, sick, more than sick ever could describe, sick David!_

Danny just couldn't hold back his emotions anymore, he just couldn't. That guy was nauseating. "You SON OF A BITCH, you are SICK! How could you even dare to touch _MY PARTNER_? HOW COULD YOU DARE? WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM?" he barked at the boy, shaking his strings roughly to get free. The boy watched in amusement, loving to finally see some feelings of the man.

"We threw him into the water, cuffed him to a rock and left him in a black, dark hole he'll never leave. Never." He laughed conceitedly.

_What's that for a psycho? He's changing his mood every five minutes, from angry to nice, from disgusting to dumb to confused to overenthusiastic and then to absolutely abnormal. That guy either has dissociative identity disorder or he has other problems. _

After finishing his inner monologue, he glimpsed back to the man's face… mask. "If he dies, I will kill you. I _promise_ you, I will kill you," he hissed darkly, narrowing his eyes, hoping to seem threatening despite his oh-so-menacing state of body.

Slouched back into his chair, he observed the man wandering through the room, rotating his arms as if he needed a massage.

_Oh god, Danny, you're caring about the silliest things. Anyhow, I would need a massage more than him, I'm mentally and physically hurt. Oh GOD, SHUT UP! _he instructed himself.

"Nice promise, I will come back to it sooner or later," he stopped, looking at his watch and then continued, "but I have to go now anyway. We'll see each other again, I _promise._"

Before he left, though, he didn't want to miss the opportunity to kick the cop by himself and booted Danny in his upper body part, well knowing he must have cracked a rib as Danny let out a piercing screech.

"Good night, _detective," _he said, moving his slim body out of the stinking room.

_Holy shit, he __**broke **__my ribcage! And why in hell's name is everybody using the word 'detective' in a way it could be an insult? _


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hawaii Five-0.**

Thank you so much for your reviews and your help to improve my story! I wasn't able to edit my chapter yesterday, so I did it today and I hope you can read more comfortable now :)

So, here is my new chapter, enjoy it and please review! :)

H50

It was already dawning and with every passing minute his body temperature was falling lower and lower and he wondered when he would show first signs of hypothermia.

_You dumbass, you're already showing them!_

He punched his shaking and dull hands against the stone, didn't even feeling the warm blood running down the side of his arm.

He had already tried to recall anything more of the night of the attack, but he still couldn't make it out, what was making him even angrier.

_Steve McGarrett, you got to be calm, do not panic, everything's just fine (that had been Steve's part)- No, what are you talking about? Hell, you're in a hole, a cave, a nothingness, you'll drown there and sharks gonna eat you! I always said to you 'do not go into the water', but noooo, our Steven has to play Dora the Explorer all over. I hate you, I hate you so much. _

"Ugh, shut up, Danny." Had he said that out loud? Man, he was getting crazy.

_Well, that's was Danny saying all the time- you lost your mind completely. _

He hit his handcuffs against the hard wall, getting the idea again to beat it until it would break open and he would be free.

_It's still a silly idea, Steve… well… before I'm gonna die here- it's worth a try. _

With all his strength left he hammered the cuffs against the stony underground, again and again, coughing wetly, but he didn't gave up, it was his only hope to get alive out of it. His hands were badly bruised after a few minutes, but he pushed the pain by side and concentrated on opening the damn thing had taken away his freedom. Minute for minute, he slammed his wrists onto the stone. 'Danny's' voice was getting louder, screaming at him for being an asshole, drilling into Steve's head, probably burning down thousands of his brain cells. And after another few unsuccessful minutes, he surrendered and sagged back, barely able to hold it together. His eyelids drooped and Steve felt the delicate embrace of sweet darkness.

_Don't you dare succumb! _

Steve's eyes blasted open. Danny?

_Yes, it's me you moron. _The SEAL's look fired through the cave - there was nobody.

_Of course there's nobody! I'm just an object of your imagination, what else did you think? _

"What, Danno, you can't even let me die alone?"

_Ohhh, and you are finally submitting? No fun, I thought you would be indestructible! Good to see you are human after all. _

"You are proud of me for giving up?" He laughed, hoping no one could see him in his current state of mind. He was dehydrated, maybe even delirious, and he was talking to himself!

_No, not really. Actually, I'm even a little disappointed with you. You are the SuperSEAL, you're younger and you were to live longer than me with your running and swimming and eating only green stuff. Okay, your lifestyle maybe had something … perilous, but truly – you are __**Steve**__. You can't die. At least that was what I thought all time. _

Steve listened to Danny's himself and he had to admit he was saying true words.

He needed a moment before whispering, "I don't know what to do, Danny. I…," he swallowed, "I can't move anymore. I'm tired."

_Oh shut up. _

The Navy SEAL found himself being startled at the merciless of his 'friend's' words, he thought him to be empathetic.

_I AM YOU! I never thought you'd be silly, McGarrett, but somehow I highly doubt my judgment now. But, um, well. I should encourage you or something, to have you clinging to your life again. So MOVE up your fat, ugly ass and DO what have learned in that fancy SEAL training you received. USE your brains, McGarrett! But is there anything left of it, anyway?_

Steve wanted to roar, to scream, to _shut up _that thunderous voice of his mind that was yelling things at him that didn't make any sense when he suddenly noticed they were actually _making _somesense.

**Is there anything left of it, anyway? Is there anything left of it? Is there anything left? **

_Was _there anything he had forgotten to check? Had he forgotten something that could help him escaping him? He had done anything he could, right? He had inspected his clothes first, he had studied his surroundings for something useful, he had examined… _Wait, what? You had inspected your clothes? And when had you done this inspection, Lt. Commander Steve J. McGarrett? When your head wasn't attached to your neck? You gotta be kidding, man. I never watched you checking up your clothes. _

As recognition was dawning, Steve was positive to beat himself to death, but before he had the chance to do so he first had to get out of these bloody handcuffs.

And following the _Tipp _of his own mind, he started to seek in his pockets for something he might unlock the cuffs with. Being disappointed about not discovering anything, his energy slipped away once again.

_Oh god, Steven, you __**really **__thought your captors wouldn't take away your keys and paperclips and so on? Just how dumb you want them to be? Like I said, USE your brains, and do not something like searching for the obvious. Is there anything left? Is there anything left? Is there anything left? _ The question was rotating around his skull, dizzying him. _Is there anything left? __**Is there anything left?**__**IS THERE ANYTHING LEFT? **_

"NO! JUST ME AND MY CLOTHES! Would you please SHUT UP now? You're really giving me a hea…" He broke off in midsentence. "Me and my clothes… my… clothes! My pants, my shirt, my socks, my… shoes. My shoelaces."

_Thank god, maybe you aren't as stupid as I temporary thought you'd be. _

Steve failed to get his right foot up into air without damaging his ribs further, but he was very pleased with himself when he saw the laces were still quite useful for his intention. He fumbled with the thin strap until it was free from the claws of his shoe. The salt water had already taking its toll on the lace: it was waterlogged and some pieces of the string were sticking out like thorns of a rose bush by now. But the small metallic end of it was still unblemished and, by the looks of it, it should function.

He coughed wetly and kneaded his nose, hoping to be able to suppress the need of sneezing a few minutes. The Commander was nothing but watching his right hand, which was quivering unfavorably, inserting the shoelace into the lock of the deprivation of his liberty. It wasn't his body doing it, it was more like inspecting the performance from the outside, and it was chilling and illogical.

_Probably I am beyond the point of being logical now and my body is taking over my mind now. Or my mind over my body? _The handcuff around his right hand submitted and dropped against the skin of his forearm, but Steve was too deepened into his thoughts to notice it. _Why would my mind take over my body? That's irrational – and we'd be at the beginning again. _His right hand wandered automatically to the cuff around his left side and started doing its job. _I think it was 'your body takes over your mind'. Yes. But if you think so much your body is just doing its own thing wouldn't be it be 'your mind takes over your body' then? _His fiddling hand finally freed itself from the second cuff and it and the chain were thrown back to the wall to dangle there.

Hearing the crash of it, Steve needed a few moments to realize he was free, blinking incredulously down at his bloody and _liberated _wrists. "What the..?" _How have I been freed? _His bottle blue eyes scurried around, in search of anybody able to set free his wrists without him realizing it, but he was all alone.

_How..? I can't have unchained myself, no, there's no chance._

He could see blood oozing through the deep cuts, dripping into the ocean, and he knew it had been his training working.

_Nobody is ever going to buy that story. __That includes me. _

Deciding to not lose any more time, he practically pulled himself with the aid of the rocks to the entrance, his ribs hurting much more than he had noticed before. He breathed deeply in when the world moved back and forth and he felt like throwing up again. Grasping at a rock that was sticking out, he closed his eyes to let the dizzy spell pass. After it had subsided, he continued _'_swimming' until he reached the gap's exit.

Sniffling, he poked his head out of it, not daring to believe._ Hurry up, there're bad guys waiting for you to catch them and throw them behind the bars! _Danny's voice was more than welcome to him, it was, somehow, encouraging him. Waiting for a wave to pass, he took the opportunity to check his own wounds a bit more. He used his hand to feel for broken ribs. His hands moved aside his right side, recognizing only a few cracked and badly bruised ones, but as he did it again on the left of his body, his face scrunched up in pain, when three ribs were moving under his touch. "Damn it McGarrett," he muttered under his breath. A dry cry escaped his mouth as a sneeze caused his body to bend forward and his knee bumped into his broken ribs. When his breathing stopped to be hitched he raised his head and checking his surroundings he knew immediately that this place wasn't familiar to him.

He looked up to a high rock wall, maybe eight foot tall or so, running down a few hundred meters and then disappearing in the blue of the water. Steve had no idea in which direction he should swim- either right or left, both didn't show any signs of a beach. _Maybe I can climb up the wall? _Looking down at his left arm melted with his chest, he doubted he could do it, and anyway - there was a _bare _wall of stone in front of him, how was he supposed to be able to climb up _that? _He had to admit, tough, that he was impressed, it was a great place to hide somebody.

The SEAL chose the right way to swim, his left arm close to the broken ribs and head only inches above the water, eyes slipping close every here and there.

H50

"Eat." The message was short, but clear - eat or die. _Eat or die? Sounds like… like a lame thriller, Daniel…Wow, you really get bored down here. _

Before Danny could answer something the man vanished, shutting the big metal door with a loud _thud. _And there it was- a tasty-looking bread, lying on a plate on a table next to his chair. It would be so easy to take, if he hadn't been stringed onto the chair.

He felt like one of those people out of advertisement when they look at the product to sell and then suddenly start to drool, rush at it, falling over thousands of cans just to get to the tasty, tasty, tasty sandwich to grab it and take a big, big, BIG bite in it...

_God, when exactly did I last eat? Was it Thursday? Yes… no? Is that torture? To sit a hungry man in front of a sandwich? …__I have to get outta here, NOW… McGarrett's dying, he's fuckin' __**dying**__ and you are wondering when you last ate! _

He shook at the ropes as hard as he could, flinching when a shot of pain shot through his whole beaten body, staying steadily in his head. But he wasn't giving up, no way McGarrett would die and he was just sitting here around and then would later let people tell him 'you did everything you could'. He felt the rage widening, but then again, he figured out it wouldn't be clever to waste his left strength in doing something, well, rather unconventional.

_Think, Daniel, think! _But- _hell- _he wasn't a freakin' SuperSEAL like McGarrett, who could build things out of a chewing gum!

_Stop searching for excuses, DAMN IT! "THINK!"_


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own Hawaii Five-0.

Thanks again to all of you reading my story!

Have fun and please post what you think! :)

H50

Steve's whole body was on fire, simultaneously stabbing cold and it was aching like _hell. _He felt like he had already swam around the world (in reality, it were only a few hundred meters), and it was a torture only to think about swimming any further. He was moving since an eternity and the dawn changed into the blue sky of Hawaii not long after he had left the cave.

_Come on, Steven, hang on, not far and it's done. You WILL hang on there, or I'll kick your ass, _Steve heard Danny pleading and he could practically see him throwing his hands in the air like a maestro, but this imagination was flying away with a loud, gunshot-like sneeze.

He groped at the rock wall once again, trying to get his breathing and the headache under control. And why the hell was the world spinning again?

_C'mon McGarrett, time for lil' situation check, huh? Feeling in legs? Ha-ha. Feeling in fingertips? Nope. Feeling in hands? Well, yes, um, no… not really yes and not really no. A little bit. Head? Definitely concussion. Ribs? Have had worse. Strength? Not too much left. Hypothermia? Looks bad, really, really bad. Pneumonia? Not yet. I guess my condition's not too good, huh? Who am I talking to?_

He felt miserable.

The pressure in his chest was growing and he already sensed the next hacking coming, but he tried to hold it in as long as possible, the coughing was only abusing his damaged ribs.

_How can anybody get sick in Hawaii? In 79°F hot water and nothing but sun? _

He chose to swim further, it wouldn't help him if he stopped here and drown. His bluish fingertips let go of the hold and his whole body glided back into the warm-cold water of Hawaii. Steve's left arm started embracing his ribcage again, carefully not to touch it too hard and his tired legs kicked his battered body forward. After a few minutes he closed his eyes and used his right hand to fumble for the wall to let it guide him further and to not swim into the ocean.

_Maybe Danno's already searching for me? _

And suddenly, in one second to another, he knew what happened.

An accident.

Blood.

Pain.

_**DANNY!**_

H50

_He woke up. _

_It wasn't the smooth waking up he was used to, without the nice sheets and his fluffy pillow greeting him, without the sun kissing his body. First, he wondered how many drinks he might have drunken last night when he was greeted with a big, nice headache and a familiar dizzy spell in his stomach. _

_He wanted to draw his hands to his face to rub over it, but a sharp pain prevented him from that and so he opened his eyes to see what was wrong with him. With the light shining in his eyes the ache in his skull and the nausea worsened immediately, but he didn't paid too much attention to it because, well, he was hanging headfirst from the seat, only the strained belt rescuing him from the fall to the … top of the car. _

_His gaze drifted to the windshield, which was shattered, splinter of its glass were lying distributed in the car, covering almost the whole top of the car in a strange glitter as the sun was shining down on it. That was when he noticed the safety belt was pressing hard onto his ribcage and he needed to do something about it because that was what __**really **__hurt. _

_Furthermore, he couldn't hear anything, but his own blood rushing through his ears. Grimacing, he turned his head to his right, his vision blacking out a few seconds before he could see again. His partner was dangling from his sit, too, and from the side of his face was blood running… up into his hair. Hell, it was so funny to see the world the other way around. _

_**No, focus, you have to focus. **_

_He tried to reach out a hand to his friend, to feel his pulse, but his body failed him as he practically__** felt**__ his ribs cracking. "Ohh god," he groaned, slightly panicking as he didn't hear his own voice, but he knew the boom of the impact had caused the temporary hear loss. Determined to check on him, he made a second try and he stuck out his hand again, trying to ignore the hot piercing pain in his chest. _

_His fingertips brushed past the dust and the flying ashes, to the throat of the unconscious man in the seat next to him. Although it hurt damn much, he finally could touch the spot where he supposed to be the artery and pressed his trembling fingers slightly down. He closed his eyes, praying he would find a pulse and it seemed like an eternity before he felt the up and down of it. _

_He let out a sigh and coughed painfully – for a moment he had totally forgotten he caught a __**cold**__. It sounded so … ridiculous. _

_And then Steve coughed and coughed again. He drew his hand back to let it hold his chest to lessen the pressure on it because it felt as if an elephant's weight sat on his ribs. When his dry hacking had stopped, his belly tried to empty itself as it was churning and when he thought he would be sick he undid his seatbelt, knowing it wouldn't be the best to puke upside down, but unfortunately he performed it without thinking further. He fell flat onto his head, letting out a parched yell of surprise, then moaning as another jagged pain exploded in his head. _

_Steve thought he was out cold, but as he was still thinking, he had to be awake. He opened his eyes, the world was spinning like a record and the Commander blinked a few times to get focused, to help Danny because he __**needed **__him. _

_Steve gulped down the bile rising up into his throat once more, but his stomach wouldn't settle down again and soon he lost the battle and his body was maneuvered violently to the car's window just in time to drop his food forcibly in a noisy splash. It wasn't much because he hadn't been very hungry the past days (he didn't mention it to Danny, Kono or Chin because they would have sent him home, but he had been vomiting twice while on the case and then he didn't dare to eat anything else because he feared he would be sick in front of them), so he was more likely dry heaving onto the ground than really puking. He coughed intensely while spitting out the rest of the icky bile to the side of the car, with the back of his right hand wiping away beads of sweat that were daring to run into his eyes. _

_When the burning had settled down a little bit he leaned back onto the passenger door. Steve felt miserable and he just wanted to pass out, to __**sleep**__ because that was what he needed more than anything else (okay, medicine and water sounded pretty nice, too). _

_But Steve couldn't give in now, he wasn't somebody who gave in that easy and he was damned if he let a small cold (and a rollover) take him down. _

_So he forced his eyes open, placed his shaking hands on the ground and pushed himself up, crying out in sheer pain as he did so, but he didn't stop proceeding. He had noticed the pain he was feeling in the chest was getting more intense as he moved away his left hand too far away from his ribs and even though some ribs of his right side were at least cracked, too, they weren't aching as much as the ones on the other side._

_He swallowed and moved on, crawling through the glass and the dirt, paying no attention to the fragments of glass cutting open his hands. _

"_Danny," he whispered, catching his breath, grasping Danny's hand, which was sagging freely through the air, pulling at it, trying to haul him back to consciousness. _

"_Danny," he called louder. _

_When he didn't get a response, he examined his friend a little closer by feeling carefully for broken bones and he guided his right hand to the collarbones, to the ribs, and, around the steering wheel, to the… lower parts of Danny's body. _

_Satisfied he didn't seem to have anything broken, he took an extensive look at the gash that was bleeding on the side of his face. It didn't seem to be anything serious, maybe he would only have a concussion, but head injuries shouldn't be underestimated, he knew that. _

_Suddenly, he had the idea to check his cell phone, maybe it was still working and he was able to call for help. _

'_You're a smart person, McGarrett, really, not calling 911 even though you might had the chance to call for help. Damn idiot,' he teased himself, while extracting his phone from smeary pants. _

_**No reception. **_

_Oh god, was he in some thriller movie where everything, just everything, goes wrong, like having an accident and then accidentally not having any reception? _

_This was getting lousy. _

_Slowly, he backed his hand away and prepared himself to the next thing he was planning to do- he was letting Danny fall on him so he could get them both out of the wreck and secured because, even if he wasn't able to smell anything through the congestion in his nose, he was pretty sure there was gas leaking out and he didn't exactly want to be part of an explosion. _

_He knew the risk of a whiplash in their situation, but he couldn't just sit there and wait for either a rescue team showing up, an miracle or an explosion. He led his thump to the buckle and pushed it down, waiting for Danny's body to slump forward onto his own rattled body. _

_But the brunette didn't expect the cop to be __**so**__ heavy, he was pushed hard onto the ground, top, or whatever of the car and his ribs were, once again, shoved down by harshly and if he had anything left, he was certain he would have vomited on Danny. He bit onto his lip to avoid crying out and his mouth filled with blood shortly after. _

_Steve tried to inch forward with Danny on his stomach, but he could barely move, let alone open the door. _

'_Wow, supreme genius McGarrett, now Danno's taking a nap on you and you can't do anything about it because your thorax is disintegrating because of his obese ass!' _

_He coughed loudly and his face scrunched up in pain as a deafening sneeze left his body and he propelled forward and bumped with his forehead into Danny's back of head. He closed his eyes a few minutes, to rest, to let his body recover from the recent collision, and he missed his body drifting into slumber. _


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hawaii Five-0.**

I'm sorry it took me so long to update, but here's the next chapter.

Have fun reading it and review please! :)

H50

_He suddenly felt something poking in his stomach, grasping his shirt and digging itself deep into his flesh. He opened his eyes and needed a few seconds before he realized it was a lot of darker outside (had he really been falling asleep? He had to punish himself later for being that reckless) and that 'something' was Danny, who was waking up __**on **__him. _

"_Danny?" _

_No answer, but further movement and a he sensed his friend attempting to push himself up. _

"_Danny, stop it!" Not only the Jersey was risking his own health, but Danny was also forcing down his upper body and it wasn't exactly comforting. _

"_Uhhhh?" Till this moment he didn't notice he could hear again, although it was like through a fat cotton-wool packed into his ear. _

"_Steven?" _

"_Danny?" _

_The cop unstrapped his eyes and though everything was a blur, he recognized his boss' stomach and he noticed he had a __**huge **__headac… wait, wait, wait - that meant - he was resting on him, on his boss, on __**Steve**__?_

_But when he was about to change that embarrassing situation the world turned somersaults and his stomach flip-flopped, ready to empty itself. _

"_I think 'm… goin' t' puke on ya." _

_Steve's eyes went wide and he practically begged, "shut your eyes and keep still." Danny did as he was told to and squeezed his eyes shut, just as his lips went into a flat line. After a few minutes the nausea settled down and he dared to peel his eyes open again. _

"_Why … why am I lying on ya?"_

"_I was always hot on you sleeping on me, Danno. What do you think? I tried to save you." _

_Danny laughed, "'Tried' fits", set his hands firmly onto Steve's abdomen, wanting to get up again. _

"_Hey! Do not move! What's so hard to understand with that?" The SEAL coughed. _

"_Steve, I'm - I don't want to lie on ya." _

"_Um, what about I do not either, but I don't care about it?" _

_Ignoring Steve's objection, he raised his head, but let it fall down again as the hot pain in his head increased. _

_"Good, you won. F'r now at leas'. Wha' happ'ned anyway?" he asked, already being sure it had something to do with Steve's kind of driving because he was always too fast and ignoring the traffic laws, unless himself. He was riding conscientiously and he did not lead people to throw up on the sidewalk when they left his car. And he never… _

"_You wanted to drive me home and well, shit happens. I always told you I'm drivin' better than you." _

_**WHAT? **__That was clearly irrational and since when was Steve not steering his car? _

"_How bad are you hurt?" Steve demanded, sniffling loudly and as Danny opened his eyes once again, he could see him turning his head to the right and just when the Jersey wanted to ask what the hell he was doing a gigantic sneeze, what, with no doubt, could have woken the dead, was forced out. Uhhhh, with that look on his face it must've hurt him- but why in hell was he sneezing? He never, ever saw Steve McGarrett… … _

_Ohhhh, right, Steve's sick. Now he could remember why the Commander wasn't driving._

_The taller man's head rotated back and he blinked a few times as his vision darkened and then he noticed Danny was right staring at him with wide eyes. _

"_What?" he dared to ask a few seconds later when Danny had made no attempt to say something. _

"_You are sick." _

_There was a hint of uncertainness behind his words, but above all his voice was covered in disbelief and … worry? _

"_No, it's okay, I'm already feeling better, you know, accidents have that affect on me." He cleared his throat after his sarcastic statement and sniffed once more, hauling his right hand to wipe over his runny nose. _

"_Well, I guess, we have to, um, get out of the car, you know? And can you, um, well, smell anything out of order?" _

_First Danny wanted to protest that he could smell himself, but then he would have liked to slap himself for that dumb thought. He rose his nose and took in a few breathes. _

"_I think … what the…? Is … is that barf?" _

_Steve's face immediately reddened and he scratched his neck, muttering, "yeah, about that … sorry. But um, originally, I thought something like gas?" _

_He saw Danny's head shaking in no and he calmed down a bit, but there could still be the possibility of an explosion so they had to get out of the car __**now**__. _

"_You think you could get up after all?" _

_Danny chuckled dryly, even though there was nothing, really nothing, to laugh at in their situation. "NO, Steve! I, I mean, we were in a car accident, a fuckin' car accident and our car, __**my **__car rolled over and, and we're lying on the top of my car now, and, no, __**you **__are lying on the top of my car, I'm lying on you on the top of my car." _

_He took a breath, squeezing his eyes shut as if believing when he opened them again he recognized he only had a nightmare. _

_But nothing like that happened. _

_Steve thought his friend was going to have a nervous breakdown or so, but Danny held it together, thinking of the pain Steve probably went through as he __**wanted **__to save him. _

"_Sorry," he whispered and sniffed wetly, "yeah… I, I can get up. But before that's going to happen I want to know where you are hurt. I guess you already checked me over and the only thing what's aching now is my head. So c'mon, superman, tell me."_

"_What?" _

"_Where you are hurt, whiz kid." _

"_Nowhere?" _

"_First off it was too fast, you liar, and second off- you aren't even sure yourself when you lie to me? You have to admit, that's poor." _

_Steve rolled his eyes, making a mental note to not do it again when sustaining a concussion as soon as another pain washed through his brain and then he sighed in surrender. _

"_Concussion," he confessed bitterly, hoping Danny would drop it then. _

"_And where else?" _

"_That's all," he shrugged and looked innocently at his friend, who was still lying with his stomach on his one. "I have a finger and I will use it, McGarrett," he threat, "and I will poke around in your body until I will find out where else you are hurt, but you are lucky that you are right, we should get our asses out of my wonderful car, which is a __**wreck**__ now, before we get grilled. Wait, I will…" He wondered how he should get up from McGarrett without hurting that asshole anywhere where he could be hurt (that sounded weird to his ears, but then again, he was certain he had a concussion, too, and that was somehow comforting him). _

"_Could you – could you spread your legs?"_

_His blue eyes pierced into Steve's, which were oddly __**not **__piercing, but Danny guessed it came with the cold his boss was suffering. Actually, Danny awaited a sarcastic answer as 'you wanna grope me or what?' or 'I did that in your dreams, too, right?' but he didn't expected him to say __**nothing **__and just to do as he was told to. _

_McGarrett __**never, ever **__did as he was told to do and that wasn't really soothing down the worry in his stomach. _

_He promised himself when they would be out of the car he would punch him in the face if necessary to get him talking about his injuries. He crouched (the car wasn't really high from upside down) into the limited space between Steve's long legs and turned around to see the Commanders eyes calling it a day. He kicked his friend into the knee with a 'what the hell are you doing' expression and watched him raising his upper body. _

_No, he watched him __**wanting**__ to raise his upper body, but halfway he collapsed back, his features screaming PAIN and his hand pressing onto his ribs. _

"_STEVE!" Danny screeched, rushing back to Steve's side. But Steve was already starting his second try, this time successfully sitting up, and Danny was frightened about how pale he was, just his cheeks were in a red contrast to it and his hair was a mess, sticking out in all possible directions, but then Danny minded they had been in a disastrous accident and they __**both **__were alive and, irrefutably, that was a miracle. _

"_C'mon gorilla, let's get you outta here," he said in a 'you have no choice anyway' kind of way and waited for his boss to nod and set his hands onto the ground so he could creep out of the wreck. Danny stooped towards the door and he attempted to push it open because he didn't want to climb through the window as he had the choice to use the door, but well, he obviously had no choice because the door was stuck. _

"_Sorry, this door's out of order, guess we have no option but climb through the window." _

"_Yeah, you're probably right," Steve agreed from the place Danny saw him the last time. Before the cop scrambled his ass through the window though, he kicked out the rest of the remained glass to avoid slitting open his arms and bleeding out in his car. When he was done, he announced, "okay, you, you will just __**stay there**__ and do nothing but sit there, you hear me? I'll get out of the car now and then will try to open one of the doors so you don't have to shrink to get through the window, and, oh wow, you couldn't do it either, so just sit there and play with…," he looked around in the car, "you play with yourself, but do not touch the glass!" _

_He felt as if he talked to a child. _

_The man stepped through the little window, cursing the creators of the car for disregarding the situation of somebody in need of help who wants to get through the window and simply can't because he's too big. He has lucky that he was not 'too big', so he escaped through the window, now entirely sure he would send a complaint about this car to the inventor. When he stood outside, he rolled his head to test it and he swirled around his collarbones to loosen the stiffness in his neck. Then he took hold of the car. _

_His car._

_It was a __**wreck. **_

_His Camaro was lying next to a tree, near to a path, which not seemed to be used often._

_And they were in the jungle. _

_**How the hell did we end up here?**_

_He swallowed, his dry throat bothering him, but he had to get McGarrett out of the ticking time bomb before it would blow up. He peaked through the window by lowering again to see McGarrett attempting to open the door on his own. _

"_Oh god, what are you, a cat? I swear, Steve, you're worse than a cat because those will just destroy your favorite couch, puke on it and then lick their coat as if nothing had happened. But you, my friend, you puked in __**my **__car, well that's probably not your fault because you have a concussion, but nevertheless, you're worse and you'll always be because a cat can at least look sweet sometimes, but not you, you have all those ugly faces and nothing else and right now I would love to have a cat around me!"_

_He was out of breath when he had finished, his head pounding in unison with his heart and he wondered if his eyes will pop out if his heartbeat increased. Steve's head was swaying slightly and his eyes sagged and shot open every millisecond. _

"_Steve?" he demanded worried, knowing he had exaggerated with his talking, but he couldn't control his tongue when he was perfectly fine and now he had to deal with a concussion and their totally-fucked-up-situation - how could he __**not **__be ranting._

"_Huh?" was the short answer before the Commander retched once again, not quite managing to avoid spitting at his clothes. _

_Danny rushed around the broken car, pulling at the door knob a little too hard as he thought it would be stuck as the other, but it was easy to open and he fell back onto the grass, his head whirling. He struggled to his feet seconds later, ignoring the constant pain in his head, creeping to the open car. The blonde cop watched his friend's back rising a bit from its surely uncomfortable stoop and he sensed him rubbing a hand over his face to wake himself up, maybe, or, when he heard a muffled sound, to sneeze in it. _

"_Steve?" he asked again, causing Steve to turn only his head in his partner's direction. The Commander based his right hand on the ground (his left was still on his ribs) and with his legs help, he shoved himself backwards towards the door. When he reached it, he stopped shortly, turning his body around so he would face Danny, who was holding out his hand to offer support. _

_But as stubborn as Lt. Commander Steve McGarrett was, he, of course, did not accept the help of his friend, but pushed himself on the frame of the door up, gritting his teeth that he thought they would give in every moment, but he refused to cry out in front of Danny. _

_The Jersey stared at the scene in front of him, not believing Steve was still to pig-headed to allow help. When Steve almost made it completely up, he felt his legs collapsing under him and his eyes rolled back in a dramatic kind that Danny was only used to in theatrical TV Shows and without fully recognizing it, the blonde felt his arms stretching out to save his boss from hitting the ground. _

_Everything seemed easy in TV Shows, easy shooting, easy perps, easy rescue of somebody who has gone missing and easy catching a big guy passing out on you. _

_But in reality, it was everything but easy. _

_He felt his own legs folding when Steve's back compressed into his stomach and when the world did ones again cartwheels, Danny was barely able to keep the vomit at bay. He swallowed thickly and then told himself to keep it together, lowering the brunette onto the ground next to the car, breathing unevenly and fast. He let his eyes fall close a few seconds, rubbing a hand across his face and through his hair, then facing the broken world again. _

_Danny shook off his clothes from the dust and dirt and after that he turned to the SEAL next to himself, who was still in the comatose-like state. _

_He straightened up, the worry about the fella big enough to forget about the pain in his head. First he reassured himself Steve was still living by pressing down his fingers to find a pulse and then, feeling his boss's forehead, he chuckled. _

_**He's out cold though he is hot**__. _

'_Not that kind of hot', he thought shortly after his own words started to sink in. _

"_Stevie", he nudged his friend, being sure it came out of his mouth slurring so he was sounding like a drunk. "Steve, c'mon, I'm waitin' for those baby blues." _

_When Steve still didn't show any sign of awakening soon, Danny took his friend's legs and started to haul him farther away, out of the area where they could be seriously hurt when the car decided to blow up. After a few meters he tried to wake up the SEAL again, but was unsuccessful._

_He was dripping with sweat and wiped it away as it ran into his eyes, making them burn when the salt leaked into it. Danny suddenly felt weak, all the adrenaline was wearing off and he slowly lowered himself onto the ground next to Steve, checking him yet again to see he was still not coming around. _

'_I should really use this opportunity to observe his injuries', the short man thought before his world was blurring to black. _

H50

"Yeah, I swear to you, I fucked her so hard she thought she'd be in heaven. I was excellent, no - I was absolutely brillia…" Danny could hear the man shutting up.

_Thank god for small mercies._

"What the… What the _fuck? Alex! ALEX!_", the man bellowed the next moment at the top of his voice and even though he couldn't see him, Danny was sure he was a hulk like McGarrett, well muscled, _dumb,_ the accent said Britain, but he certainly wasn't the Big Boss of all this. He yelled for his _mother._

"Alex's up there, 'kay? Calm the hell down, Mike!" shouted a second voice back and he sounded like _David._

"You fuck off, bugger, or I'll punch ya in your ugly face, hear me?" _David _stilled and Danny imagined him sitting down on a stool in a dark corner, close to tears, hurt by the words his whatever-he-was had said to him.

He chuckled, longing to see the scenario in front him, but he couldn't because he was separated with them by the wall. The Jersey cop eavesdropped, but couldn't hear anything else, maybe they decided to move 'up there' where _Alex _was supposed to be.

But the quietness didn't last long as he could hear a door hammer open and an authoritarian, loud voice asked, "What the hell is going on here? I just wanted to do business with sweet little Katie and suddenly Mark burst in, screaming something about an escape! What the _fuck _is going on, Batson?"

_That _was Mr. Big, Danny was 100 % sure about that. He was controlling all this here.

"Boss, watch this," a rather restrained _Mike _ordered – no, no, it was more like _recommended - _his boss.

_So that's you, pitiable Mike – hanging out your ass, playing big when your boss is not around and then tailing away when he's there? Really miserable. Shame of me I thought of Steve when I heard your voice. You are nothing like McGarrett._

He was cut out of his thoughts when an angry, _very_angry _Alex _hollered, "HOW THE HELL IS THAT POSSIBLE! You were supposed to watch him, motherfucker! Out of my eyes! _OUT OF MY EYES! _And _find him! _If you'll come back without him, I swear, your own dear mother will pay for your failing."

Stamping feet echoed and soon the sound vanished.

"That's not possible! He was chained to a fucking _rock _in the fucking _sea! _He cannot be free!"

Danny's heart jumped at his choice of words. He remembered the conversation with _David _earlier, '_We threw him __**into the water**__, cuffed him __**to a rock**__ and left him in a black, dark hole he'll never leave. Never.' _

_Oh my god! McGarrett! You made it? You freed yourself?! I love you so much right now, babe! _

He beamed from ear to ear, not able to stop smiling because he knew _Steve was alive_.

Suddenly, he saw the room's door flying open with such a force it banged into the wall and bashed back, almost hitting the guy, who was a well build man in his 30's, strewn with tattoos, in the face, which was masked in a totally-pissed-off feature.

"Well, your partner knows how to make us _very _mad. Unlucky you."

Danny couldn't help but smile, what clearly provoked Alex.

"What did he do to piss you so off? Did he sing a song for you? I swear, you _never _want to hear him singing it's like…"

He was quieted by a fist slamming into his jaw, the force crashing the stool with him down to the ground. Williams laughed despite the pain that was cruising through his body and he knew he was just making the bad man angrier at him but he couldn't stop. A kick with a boot to his already cracked ribs did the job and he silenced.

The head of this… crap was standing over him, watching him while he writhed in pain, refusing to cry out to please the man.

"You're not a wise man, Mr. Williams."

"For you - Detective," Danny managed through gritted teeth, panting slightly.

"You know, we all underestimated Mr. McGarrett."

The cop thought about laughing out loud, but decided against it as he didn't want to risk a punctured lung that a broken rib could pierce.

_Mr. McGarrett? Really? _

"He did manage to get out of handcuffs which were chained to a hole in the sea with a few broken ribs, a concussion and other bumps here and there."

"And a cold," Danny muttered under his breath, yet very happy McGarrett was the SuperSEAL he was.

"But I do not tolerate such a behavior. He may be free now, but he won't get too far before my man will get him back. And then he will regret even wanting to get away."

_He sounds like a dictator. 'I do not tolerate such a behavior'._

It was funny to witness him pacing up and down the room, his hands folded behind his back just like in some movies he had seen.

"What does that mean?" Danny ran his tongue over his mouth, but the desired effect of wetness didn't occur.

"What do you think it does mean, Mr. Williams?" _Alex _had stopped striding, his cold, piercing blue eyes boring into Danny's, sending a chill down his spine.

This man sure was some cold-blooded killer.

"You not gonna punish me because of that idiot, right? I mean, he's insane and I would prefer to not being beaten just because he felt like escaping." Danny couldn't help but cringe at his own words – he would always want to get Steve's hitting if it meant he was far away from those maniacs and their beating. His best friend shouldn't endure something like that again.

"That's what you're wondering about? You know, Mr. Williams, I'm a clever one, not that dumb as my employers. You shouldn't try to sell me the 'I hate him story' because I'm not buying it. And if you ever gonna lie to me again this will turn out even worse – for **both **of you."


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own Hawaii Five-0.

Oh my god, I'm so sorry, guys! I really had no chance to update sooner, I had so much to do for school!

And to all of you - a BIG thank you! You are awesome! I always enjoy reading your reviews, thank you for supporting me :)

Well, this chapter will be a bit … short and hard to understand because I had to write down Steve's thoughts and being in the water for a long time (with a concussion!) would mess up your heads, too!

So have fun reading it and review please! :)

H50

The video playing in front of his mental eyes stopped and so did his heart. Waking up, aching like hell, 'rescuing' Danny, watching him getting off him and out off the car, attempting to achieve the same as the cop, and then… blank. His memory was blank again. Steve roared and screamed and bellowed and yelled and cried at the same time; his stupid body failed him _again_! He NEEDED to know what happened. To him. To _Danny_. To his partner. To his best friend and _brother_.

Maybe he had been severely injured while experiencing the accident. He guessed the little blonde had suffered a concussion, probably it was more like a brain bleeding!

And then a second thought hit him. _"I don't know how I got into this cave, but I'm pretty sure it wasn't my alcoholic-self's work. Whatever maniacs did this to me… could have done the same with him…" _

He swallowed, trying to get rid of the lump forming in his swollen and tightened throat. He gulped in air through his enclosed airways, simultaneously attempting to ignore the nausea in his irritated stomach. The thought of Danny being in the hands of the bad guys made him want to puke his guts out. And seconds later his wish had been fulfilled as he coughed sickening bile out of his dry mouth, clutching at the stone wall for the support he needed.

He felt miserable. His brain was obviously too big for his skull (_ha, I've even got too much of it, Danny!) _and it tried to escape out of it, pressing onto the bone, and he swore he could even hear it cracking sometimes. _Probably it's coming out of my ears and nose and eyes soon… _His sight was blurred and bleary through his red eyes longing for sleep and rest. His nose itched and while his tongue really cherished water, there were no fluids anywhere. It ran over his lips like a dumper over a potholed street.

Wait. His tongue wasn't sharp enough to make it crack his lips. Right?

_What the hell am I talking about? God, I start being incoherent._

His ribs clawed his lungs into a hard grasp and at the consideration of his lungs pressing against the cage the picture of a hand squeezing an orange too hard, which was, as the result, billowing from it, popped into his mind.

It was an uncomfortable thought and feeling and he got rid of it by minimizing the deepness and amount of breathing.

The two twigs sticking out of his groin shimmered through the blue and moved stiffly like the ones of the very old dolls did. He wouldn't believe his legs were still attached to his body if he didn't see them.

He was _so _screwed.

And his ears couldn't get away lucky either, he still heard strange noises, like a tinnitus. A tinnitus sounding like a hyperventilating motor. It was an ugly noise, using _his _eardrums as a punching bag. _Well, it at least makes it easier for my brain to slip out. _

_NO, I don't want my brain to escape! _

Trying to block that awful sound out, he tore his hands away off his ribs and placed them on his ear. To his relief it immediately stopped, but his ribs decided this moment to create an own will and own personality as they screeched, _'we won't be able to hold your lungs in much longer, this is too much, you are too heavy, yours lungs will break through, you will die, youwilldie, youwilldie, your lungs will be the orange, the juice being your blood, the sharks will drink it with a lot of pleasure, youwilldieyouwilldieyouwilldie. YOU WILL DIE.' _

Still, Steve couldn't find himself replacing his limbs onto his torso.

And then silence followed.

Silence.

Silence, silence, silence, silence.

He tried to remember what exactly he was blocking out because the silence was louder than any noise he ever heard. And it was drowning and suffocating and blinding and deafening and hurting.

Something was wrong about the silence.

_'Think about it. You're hearing me, too, right? But why did the noise stop?' _

_Because I held… _Steve wanted to counter, but as soon as he breathed in to say it, salt water flooded his mouth, directly entering his orange. Panicked, his eyelids shot open, an acid fluid streamed into his eyes and he was blinded immediately.

_'You're not blinded, you jerk! Why did the noise stop? Why can't you breathe? Why is your orange's air being supplanted by saline? Why diidd thhhhe nooisseee stoooooop? WWhhyy caaaaaantttt yyyyyaa brrreea' _

A swirl took Danny out of his mind and vanished in the deep he couldn't see because he was blinded.

_Danny said you weren't blinded. Danny? Danny - where is he? _"Da…"

As soon as he realized he had once again breathed in the burning liquid it occurred to him Danny had been twirled away and couldn't answer him anyway.

The water entered his airways and the brunette tried to cough it up, inhaling more water involuntarily.

The SEAL pried his eyes open, _well Danny was right about the point_, suddenly being aware of his situation.

He was drowning. _Really_ drowning.

His legs were like a dead weight, pulling him down into the dark blue.

Sunrays were dancing on his numb arms, which were pretending to be airplanes next to him.

The display was interrupted by the world quaking uncontrollably and he knew it was him seizing.

His muscles convulsed involuntary to scraps of melody, his limbs danced hip-hop with the sunrays and his head bobbed to the sound of silence.

The last comprehensible thought he had was, '_Danny. Danny. I know why I could press that sound away. It was real. It was a boat's motor.' _

His body shuddered one last time.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own Hawaii Five-0.

I wished I could've updated any sooner, but it was really to no avail. I made this chapter extra long to make it up to you :)

Have fun reading it and review please! :)

H50

"_NO! _He's your son, your _son_, not one of your clients, goddammit! You already missed his first match because… See, it was so unimportant I already forgot it! But what I did not forget is your son bursting into tears!"

"Hell, Jess, I c.."  
"Oh just shut the hell up, Brian. I cannot hear one single feeble excuse out of your dirty mouth anymore. Just be there at eight - _beep, beep, beep._"

Brian jackknifed his mobile and stuffed it back into his worn down jeans, which was dotted with speckles of water. He slammed his fist onto the motor boat. Why in hell's name did that McGarrett needed to escape _today_?

His wife's voice still reverberated in his ears. No need to say he didn't love his son, he _adored_ him. His boy with brilliant blue eyes, a super-sized white smile and golden curly hair. It had pained him in his heart to tell Jack he couldn't be there to see his first game. He had promised his upset son to be there the next time and he would be damned if he couldn't fulfill his word.  
And to make matters even worse, he had to share a far too diminutive room for his liking with that supreme idiot Mike because the other idiots couldn't even watch a screen properly.

Mike was that kind of person you could imagine being obtainable in a bad boy magazine. Strewn with tattoos, that even reached his bald head, he looked like a white hulk. He probably was it. He had seen that guy killing a full-grown man with one finger (_no _kidding!). Brian hadn't been letting one single sound pass his lips since departure because Mike wasn't only barbarically muscled, he was also dunderheaded as bread and hot tempered.

But slowly, yeah, slowly, he was at the end of his tether. That _Kamikaze _was almost flying over the ocean with the boat and by the color of his face Brian could tell he was driven by anger. Mike's head was red like a tomato and the knuckles of his hands were as white as the foam forming in the water and seeming to emerge out of the blue like a rabid animal.

_Baby Mikey is heartbroken because he couldn't finish his gang bang story. _

He gathered courage, cleared his throat and said in a strict voice, "Slow down, we're almost there."

The red tomato gradually turned around and two grey eyes lasered a beam, burning a hole into his skull.

'You chicken, relax. He's not Yoda.'

But then the red tomato opened up and announced, "There are two kilometers left. SO WHY WOULD YOU LITTLE WORM ASK ME TO REDUCE THE SPEED? Almost there. Pah."

'Okay, Brian, you have to elaborate this thoroughly now. No point in bringing that tomato to explode and having this all ended here in a spaghetti fiasco. Well, if I say 'you forgot about the distance the man already covered', he will kill me immediately. If I said 'we have to think of the...' he would first kill me for saying 'we' and then again for reminding him of his own failure. And if I say…

He didn't need to declare anything at all in the end because there was a person swimming head down in the water, approximately 90 meters far away.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit, is that McGregor, McGroggy or whatever he's called? Oh, fuck!"

Due to what he exclaimed, Brian presumed Mike had spotted him, too.

"SLOW DOWN THAT BOAT, NOW!" Brian screamed as the boat approached the floating body dangerously. But since Mike appeared to be fossilized he made a dash for the oar and altered the course to not run over that man - Alex would be _very _pissed if they chopped McGarrett into fish bait. He halted the ship.

When he could breathe again and his heart rate fell back into an acceptable tempo, Brian boiled with rage. That jerk was still petrous!

"MIKE!"

The recipient didn't even hear him, he was out of it, his gaze fixed onto the lifeless person.

"Oh god," Brian panted, realizing he had to jump for McGarrett. Into the water. The dark. The mother of all horror.

If there was anything Brian Thompson was afraid of, it was the ocean. There were places in the ocean that yet have to be explored because they were extraordinarily deep. There was _nothing _below him, just sharks circling about and who knows what else kind of frightening creatures swimming around down there just waiting to take over the humanity! And yet there were those terrifying jellyfish: they were everywhere and they stung you and consequently you die little by little and with searing pain! Then there were those monstrous waves and…

'STOP!' he commanded himself, tearing his stare off the water and onto the motionless McGarrett. 'I can save him. I have to save him or Alex _will _kill me. I will see my son's match tonight. I can do this. I can!'

And he leapt. He attempted to disregard the facts he had listed in his mind, but nonetheless the way seemed to be never-ending. He panicked with every wave, he swallowed so much of the water he nearly gagged it up and he just wanted to turn around when he abruptly crashed head-on with something solid. He moved his eyelids upwards, which he had closed to keep the salty water outside.

"God, help me," he sniveled honestly as he reversed the dead weight and stared right into the complexionless and pallid and _blue_ face. The bruises that covered his features looked abnormally livid for contusions and his torn lips did not bleed anymore.

"_Holy shit,_" he said under his breath, not having seen anything like that before. He had murdered now and then (for prompt cash), but he wasn't one of those sociopaths that cut open their victims and then eat their organs or whatever.

He remembered from a few films how to handle a drowning (or drown?) person: he paddled behind the man and placed his arms under each of McGarretts armpits. And then he stroked back, stroked back as fast as he could, recalling all the Godzillas down there and he contacted the boat in no time.

"Help me," he coughed out to Mike, who was _still _petrified, but Brian had enough. No fun, he had just defeated his childhood trauma and that wimp couldn't even see a person swimming downwards in water? And that's called Hulk…

"HELP ME YOU PIECE OF SHIT!"

And voila - Mike the machine was back in the fold!

Grunting like a wild hog, muscle-man heaved both out of the water (at the same time) and slumped them onto the firm ground, tuning out the injuries of McGarrett, which earned him a dead glare from Brian, who had braced himself up quickly, happy to be aground again, directing his undivided attention to the drowned.

Brian took never CPR lessons, but these movies he watched educated him better than any teacher could. It was pointless to check if he was breathing, so Brian knelt at the captive's side and shredded the remains of his red button-down shirt.

He almost puked.

A blue, grey, green, yellow, pink and purple play of colors adorned the SEAL's torso, glistening unnaturally intense against the rest of the ashen body.

'How am I supposed to perform CPR _on that crippled chest_?'

Yet, he climbed between his legs and positioned the heel of his right hand on the center of McGarrett's chest, then intertwining the fingers as he arranged his left one on top of it. And then he pushed. Hard. Fast. After a few compressions he inhaled deeply and gave two full breaths, while holding the cop's nose.

God, his skin was so clammy and cold and wet and his mouth tasted like salt water and Brian was as nauseous as he was when he had watched his wife giving birth to his gorgeous Jack.

He observed with satisfaction that the chest rose and fell with each gulp of air he instilled into him (he learned that was a good sign). After a few breaths, he started the compressions again and he repeated that circle for a few minutes.

"If you die on me, I'll kill you, McGarrett. Just fuckin' start breathing!"

His vision began to swim in a way aquaman would be proud of and he felt lightheaded, the oxygen his wonderful brain needed was in that corpse after all. His own lungs yelped for appropriate inhalation and flames fanned in it. His clothes could never be dehumidified because of the immenseness he sweat - he virtually bathed in his own beads of perspiration. After some time, he couldn't actually make out why he was even doing the CPR. He pondered comprehensively over Jess and Jack, about his home and about his parents, which died in a cruel car accident a few years ago. But he never stopped the resuscitation.

"COME ON!" he shrieked earsplittingly, "BREATHE! DAMNIT, BREATHE!"

He smashed so roughly onto the chest, he couldn't differentiate the bruises he gave the victim from the ones he had previously borne. Brian's muscles constricted and ripped up with each push again and he yearned for Mike's upper arm strength. _Although… _

"Mike," he ordered as demanding as he could, swallowing to dissolve the lack of moisture in his throat, casting his eyes a second away from the person lying beneath him to his partner.

He had not shifted one lone centimeter after he had dragged them out of the water.

"Hell, what's wrong with you, you dumbass? You dreaming or what?" Thompson provoked him, trying to get a rise out of him that way.

'It worked well last time.'

_Of course_ it didn't bring the preferred result once more, Mike merely maintained staring off into space.

"Mike the machine, Mike the killer, Mike the unbreakable colossus, Mike the _pussy cat_." Brian did not end to ram onto the wounded ribcage, which was just about to be ruined by the fierce. "I can't believe it." And then he laughed.

If somebody had watched the scene, it would have made quite an odd portrait - a zoned out rock of a man close to tears, an unresponsive, possibly dead person revitalized by a guy, who was cackling like a madman.

It would have been even more bizarre to witness the presumed dead person unexpectedly starting to cough and throw up what seemed to be water and greenish yellow digestive liquid.

The savior himself was stunned and paralyzed for a few seconds before he realized he had to turn the sick man over so he wouldn't suffocate on his own vomit.

"Oh god, thank you, thank you," he prayed mercifully, cautiously patting McGarrett's back as he continued to chuck out saline. A groan escaped his lips.

"It's alright, you're alright."

Brian stopped dead in his tracks.

He was nice, _far_ too nice to that man.

But as hard as he attempted, he couldn't think of a rational reason to stop it - he had rescued that male at the peril of his life, he had endured pains and cramps just to have him breathing again and now he should be gross to him? No soap! He also didn't totally agree with the method they wanted to torture him, it was just too much - that man had already been dead before they tossed him into the water! And Mike would not inform anybody about his kindness to McGarrett or he would just spill a little here and tattle a little there about his palsy…

Being pleased with his motives, he put his mind on the _living _person next to him, who definitely didn't look like he was living. While replacing the grunting man onto his back, he studied him for the first time utterly: his frame was littered with cuts and all kinds of lacerations, which (to cast a positive light on it) were not infected since the saltwater undertook that task and accomplished it, his fingernails, or what was left of them, were bloody and broken, his frazzled, arduous breathing should belong to an oldie and not to a thirty-something guy, his upper body… he opted to skip it because he already stared at it long enough, his legs were covered with khakis (fortunately, Brian wasn't certain how much more his stomach could tolerate), his blue-green lips, which were bleeding again, gave the impression of being open flesh wounds and Brian involuntarily had to spit at the thought of his lips touching _his_ little time ago, feeling like rinsing it out.

Brian stood up, shocked about his legs transforming into jell-O, but he recovered fast, jogging over to the backpacks, pulling out a water bottle and dumping its contents in his mouth. But instead of spewing it out as he originally planned, he just downed it all in once, not having realized how thirsty he was beforehand. He copped a fleeting look at Mike. It seemed as if he was pinned in a wormhole, not able to move, to react, to do anything at all.

But there was a more relevant subject now - McGarrett. He was lying on his back, his eyes shut, shuddering and while coughing like crazy, his pale face creased in distress.

Thompson came to the conclusion that he had to freeze like a snowman, he knew people got hypothermia after being too long in water - even if it was not too cold (he should consider practicing as a medical, with all his knowledge!), and obtained his sweater from the bag as well as water. It dawned to him that he might be a billion times thirstier than he was.

"How shall I get you into this?" he mused quizzically, thinking of a method to stuff him into the pullover without harming him.

He couldn't sense of anything better than slapping him to alert.

"Hey, c'mon, I need a little help here."

The boy unclenched his right oculus to a tiny slit and Brian felt his heart breaking into thousands of pieces - he had his son's eyes! How could he harm anybody that reminded him of his _son_?

"Hi," he finally uttered. He couldn't gather more strength to say anything else.

McGarrett coughed soggily in reply. He couldn't gather more strength to say anything else.

"Are you thirsty?"

A weak puff was all he could muster. He couldn't gather more strength to say anything else.

"Okay, okay." He lifted the injured man's head, set the bottle onto the lips and warily and slowly-paced let the liquid hit the Commander's tongue. A few nips and Brian had to store the water away, he once watched this film… Ah, never mind.

"Mmmmmmm'rre"

Startled, Brian flinched as the rough and scraggly vox rumbled out of the depths of the man, "Whoa!" At that sudden outburst, McGarrett whimpered wretchedly and lifted a hand to his head and would have rolled onto his side if Brian's firm grip wouldn't have stopped him.

"Sorry. What did you say?" Brian whispered, having seen that kind of reaction often enough to identify the concussion.

"Mmmorr watrrr," he murmured, cracking open his eyelashes gummed together, scanning Brian lethargically.

"Hey, see who's there," Brian spurred on and smiled a tad, rewarding McGarrett's consciousness with granting him a sip. "That's enough, you will just heave it up otherwise," he explained as McGarrett begged for further fluids, sealing the bottle's opening with the correct cap.

The sick man let out a deep cough that clattered his whole body and he moaned miserably, lugging his right arm to take hold of his chest. "That surely does not sound as it should." Brian speculated about bronchitis, pneumonia and conclusively picked up his sweater, "we gonna tuck you in now, okay?"

"'kkkkhh"

Brian eradicated the rest of McGarrett's shirt nervously, fearing to hurt the man anyhow. The blue eyed man followed every step his captor presented with his exhausted eyes and bit his frayed lips when it ached too much. "Okay, uhm," Brian scampered his hands over his beautiful features, "it might ail a bit now," and he slipped the sweater over McGarrett's unsuspecting head and cautiously flitted with his arms to the ones of the injured, steering the right through the suitable sleeve.

But as soon as he lifted the left up from its position on the ground, McGarrett squealed with pain and wrestled with his legs and shifted with agony. He let go of him immediately, attempting to calm him down. A few moments later the Commander relaxed, breathing rapidly and erratically, sweat reeling down his face, leaking onto the old sweater.

"It's okay," Brian reassured, rolling down the sweater until it hid the black-and-bluish stomach, the left upper limb located next to it. Luckily, the sun flickered ruthlessly, desiccating their clothes in a matter of minutes.

"Thhhnksss," rattled McGarrett appreciatively, not understanding anything at all, but yet letting his eyes drop closed.

Brian nodded and raised his figure, running his hands through his still damp hair. This definitely wasn't how he should handle that guy. This should be merciless payback. But what else could he do? Leave him shivering and dehydrated and dying on the ground? Alex wouldn't be too pleased about that he guessed (or hoped).

He turned around to the oar, deciding it was time to be praised by his boss. He just started the engine as a low voice threatened, "You shouldn't have been so lovely to that scum."

Brian winced, but countered lazily to Mike placed opposite him, "And you shouldn't have been so damn rocky."

And Mike converted into Hulk. If he had been questioned about the following incident, Thompson would have been guaranteeing Mike taking off his white body, changing into a green monster coming for him…

_Coming for him! _

He ducked away, searching for _his _wormhole in this boat, but no chance. After a few rounds of running, trying to soothe Hulk and simply blaring on top of his voice, Brian lost his balance due to the leisurely moving ship and the water that entered the boat with each wave.

Hulk snickered amusedly, sulfur rising off his mouth, vanishing in the humid air.

He stomped his mighty foot next to Brian's head, which was picked up by its owner a millisecond after.  
"There you are, you little shithead," he terrorized while kneeling down, a disgusting grin plastered on his green face. Brian used that moment to kick his _partner _with his legs so unbelievably brutally into his balls that the attacked immediately was sent down, howling like a baby hulk. Brian got up and sprinted to his rucksack, silently calling upon he took his gun with him. No such luck.

And as he spun around, he gawked directly at Mike's raged face.

He knew he was dead. But he wouldn't go without a fight, no way.

If somebody had watched the scene, it would have made quite an odd portrait - a rock of a man close to exploding, an unresponsive, sleeping person having been revitalized by a guy, who was swinging punches at the rock.

It would have been even more bizarre to witness both man converging at the edge of the boat, still beating each other furiously, as Hulk slithered away, grabbing Brian's collar for balance. Unfortunately, he couldn't arrange much of it and plummeted backwards out of the driving boat and Brian, having unfortunately been seized at his lapel by that idiot, departed with him into the rabid animal guzzling them with a thunderous yap.

And McGarrett slept. He couldn't gather more strength to do anything else.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I do not own Hawaii Five-0.

I hope you aren't upset about me updating so slow, but I love you guys, you are amazing with all those nice reviews, it's very encouraging! :)

Have fun reading and please review :)

H50

The dulcet rush of the azure water swamped him with alleviation and soon he found himself brimming over with mirth. His beatific smile was so conflagrant it could easily battle with the sun. Warm sand guttered through his open hands like passing through an hourglass, the time elapsed, the only indicator of supplementary individuals was an Osprey scudding in horror and mewing ostentatiously as a horn of a ship trumpeted. His mood climbed up like an ascending scale and he constantly pressed down the last key, he was feeling so high, the heavens and the stars and the sun and the moon and the universe spun around him, scooping him up into the sky, the world so far away, the reality even more distant, an opaque flurry, so caliginous, so iridescent withal, tangoing alongside planets and creation.

The horn brayed again, wresting him from this thrill, this inclination, this ardor, this avidity; he felt emaciated, skeletal and famished, as if this fervor disemboweled him, he longed for more, he pined for it, he coveted it!

Yet his eyes trudged to the mysterious purr.

So this was the bitter truth – the corrugated, motley sheets of his bed reminding him of his lamentable youth, an arm asleep, transiently constructing imaginary spiders crawling it up, and a headache from the exploitation of a bar's alcohol the day before. It knocked aggressively onto the interior of his forehead, endeavoring to decamp his unventilated head.

He identified the horn as his phone pulsating with a call, beset on the begrimed night stand. With a little creativity, it sounded relatively analogous.

Steve blindly groped for it, sideswiping and sending it down with a thunder that erupted through the room, bouncing off the walls, skedaddling through the fissure of the window to the island and palpitating it like an artificial Pacemaker's electrical impulses prompt the heart to contract.

On further reflection, Steve debated whether he had drunk _a bit _excessively previously. He pirouetted, still appreciably befuddled, but providentially prevailed over gravity and sojourned in his bed.

He craved the toilet bowl.

Adjudicating he would not attain it at any rate, he ventured to burke the nausea and dangled over the wailing mattress, and seining for the cantankerous phone, he elected the third mobile out of the many wrought in his visual cortex. Due to the intoxication, his aptitude to discern things was sorely aggrieved and he mismatched it frequently with the erroneous perceptions of mobiles before encompassing the corporeal one.

"'llo?"

"MCGARRETT IS THAT YOU?"

The uproar was vaulted through his ear canal, pulverizing the eardrums, passed along the auditory nerve towards the brain by an electrical impulse to finally morph into a pernicious manikin, who revealed a megaphone and duplicated the earlier peal, while sabering the cerebral matter and usurping synapses, which he compiled randomly back in.

Steve puked onto the floor beside him.

"McGarrett?"

Pukepukepuke

"Helloooo?"

_Coughcoughpukecough_

"No fun, answer the phone!"

_Pukepukepuke _

When he lastly managed to contain any additional muck to himself, Steve's pectoral part shimmied with abominable inhalation.

"_Answer!_"

The fact the phone still subsisted having been obliterated, the interjection intimidated Steve marrow-deeply and he cawed gutturally like a moribund dog.

"What was that?"

"Danny, what's up?´HihiDannyUHUh"

"What's up?You tell me! Where are you? What were you doing? You made some strange sounds over there. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, but you should probably consider seeking medical help for your obvious hearing defect." His elephantine tongue flailed about in his mouth like an unbridled lover and he heaved his arm up to his face, sneezing into the nook of it to mute it.

"Med… MEDICAL HELP? Are you serious?"

"Deal with it, Danny." _Spin, spin, spinning world! _

"Asshole. Where _are _you? It's 10 o'clock!"

"Monday?"

"God, Steve, of co…"

"Fuck. I'll be over in a few."

"_Steve_…" Click.

He _whammed _the item in his teeter-tottering hands, he jaunted the _flapping flapping _carousel at the congested fairground, not quite as congested as his nose and his throat and his lungs and his head. He descended and careened his way over to the congested restroom, atrophying in front of the pan, he diffused goo, he coughed glop, he disgorged his offal. Routing the competitor, he hoisted himself up the avaricious seat, he floundered in the small bathroom, he was excoriated by the tiled wall until he abutted the sink. The ghost reflected in the mirror was cadaverous, lurid, bleached and the veins in the vitreous humor emitted a cerise luminosity, his erubescent nose and eyes were watery, scintillating penetratingly as if he was a drug addict.

_Okay, you are obviously a bit fucked up. _

_Very fucked up probably. _

_Very fucked up doubtlessly. _

Well, the whole thing subsequent to the 13th Vodka was riotous farce, having been driven home by?, having been getting in his house how?, having been sleeping on the floor why?, oh yeah, he had been so_ hothothot_, he had trashed around on the couch, he had plummeted to the ligneous parquet, he had been in high spirits, he had coughed a lot why?, he had not been able to sleep, he had consumed cough syrup why?, oh, yes, he had coughed, yes, right, okay, he had relaxed on the woody wood, he, he had been befogged and bedimmed, hazy and veiled, obfuscated by the polychromatic vapor swooooooshing around him why?, he had been drinking quite a lot, he had been quite a lot sick, he had been quite a lot sick to his stomach, he had been quite a lot sweaty, he had been quite a lot coughy, he had been quite a lot lackadaisical, he had been drinking cough medicine mixed with alcooohool, that had been stupid, he had been stupid, he shouldn't have done that, but what the hell, he was fine, he just needed a hot shower!

His recalcitrant feet shambled around in the stall while he was spattered with incandescent drizzle, suddenly he was pillowed against the wall, his ass on the ceramic, he was sweltering!, he was recurrently inundated with melancholy darkness, he appropriated the arctic stoneware_ to_ _shut up the disequilibrium!_, his heart galloped like a dipsomaniac stallion, he needed to abscond the calefaction or _he would_ _simmer, he would effervesce, boil and then POOOF oxidize!_

_Okay, okay, stop it! _

Steve's arm rocketed to the handle to turn off the trenchant runnel of water and he groveled out of the insidious shower onto the gelid ground, which hemmed the quondam heatwave.

The water vivified Steve undeniably: he was able to rise and shine, to brush his teeth, to suit up, to get down the staircase, to eat bread and heave it up again, to take some Tylenol, to grab his keys and SIG-Sauer P226E2, to climb into his SUV, to not run over innocent passersby (that damn old woman simply running over the street and almost being hooked up by his car did not count), to stop midway to puke again (where the hell did all the shit _come _from?), to park his car, to get into the office, to avoid Danny Williams, to … hold on.

H50

"Where the hell is that jackass?" Danny Williams swiveled around in his chair, fiddling with a pencil in his hand and thinking of numerous ways why his partner didn't show up for work.

As time passed, the scenarios went from bad to worse and he was on the edge of calling SWAT, homeland security, FBI, CSI and whatever other secret organization existed to stop a maniac from blowing himself up in McGarrett's house and using said man as a living bomb.

He reached for his phone for the fourth time.

The _beepbeepbeep_ while connecting made him even more nervous and he twiddled with his tie, which hang loosely around his neck. It was like God wanted to grill all those sinners at a barbecue party in hell. The ventilator buzzed quietly on the large desk, not quite succeeding in drying off the sweat on Danny's forehead.

"Ah, come on!" he cussed loudly and his thumb almost hit the disconnect button as a groggy and muzzy rumble resonated out of the mobile phone.

"'llo?"

"McGarrett? Is that you?" he inquired, not quite believing his ears.

He heard crackle and then something else, but he couldn't discern what it was.

"McGarrett?"

Strange sounds.

"Helloooo?"

Strange sounds.

"No fun, answer the phone!"

Strange sounds.

"_Answer!_"

"Uhgh."

"What was that?"

"Dan', w's up?" the dopey voice demanded.

"**What's up**?" he pumped derisively, "**you **tell me! Where are you? What were you doing? You made some weird noises over there. Are you okay?"

"'m fine, but you should prob'ly consider seekin' medical help for y'r obvious hearin' defect." He had problems understanding him, he sounded rickety and kind of nasal and once again, Danny made out this eccentric, barely audible bustle.

"Med… MEDICAL HELP? Are you serious?"

"Deal with it, Danny."

"Asshole. Where _are _you? It's 10 o'clock!"

"Monday?"

"God, Steve, of co…"

"Fuck. Will be ov'r in a few," Steve guaranteed then, cutting off Danny's_ Steve _by hanging up.

For a few seconds, Danny remained in the seat, dumbfounded, haltingly flipping the cell shut.

He sunk back in his chair, touring a hand through his beloved blonde hair. If he didn't know the SEAL for so long, he would confirm by oath that Steve had been sleeping. But it was ten o'clock, on a Monday morning and Superman had been cuddled in his bed?

Never ever!

At least Danny was appeased now, so he directed his attention back to the mountain of paperwork tailor-made for boring days.

Name: Paul Wellington

DOB: 06/09/81 Received: 10/06

Age at time of offense: 33 Race: Hispanic

Name: Karl Belfort

DOB: 01/12/62 Received: 10/06

Age at time of offense: 52 Race: American

And Adam Greenwich, Howard William and Reinhardt Roger that had been too pudding-headed to raid on a bank properly.

Somebody sneezed and the cop flinched, having been deep in thoughts. His eyes hunted for the origin, identifying Steve's broad silhouette standing in front of his own office. But the Commander did not enter; the handle was only pressed halfway down. His upper body was adjusted oddly to the right, his head obviously in custody of the crook of his arm. A couple of seconds nothing happened and Danny bobbed up peevishly, just as Steve sneezed again. The man tarried like this, not being persuaded it was already over, but tentatively exonerated his limbs, modifying his frame in its befitting angle and grinning uncomfortably.

"That's him all over, Steven J. McGarrett. It's Monday, what are you doing here? You should be sleeping or something like."

The blonde detective traipsed toward his partner, ogling him meticulously while champing his nether lip. The achromatic features of his friend smirked back at him, but his eyeballs and nose were beleaguered by russet orbits. He unquestionably did not appear too hot.

"Are you sick, Steve?"

"What?" the SEAL laughed, but even in his ears it sounded bogus as his legs oscillated so appallingly he had to grapple the wall beside him. "Noo, I'm not sick, I just, you know, I didn't catch a good night's sleep after this … _special_ weekend," he avouched with a wink, hoping Danny would take the bait and disappear into his room. He was still woooozy and he really shouldn't have driven. God. He was drivel.

The cop knew his friend did not simply have a hangover, but he decided to let it go – _for now. _"Oh, I can see that. Must have been really special. You look like … well, actually, like nothing I've ever seen before."

Steve's mien derailed.

"I would highly appreciate it if nobody came into my office today, I've got a lot of work to do."

A shadow manifested above him, desiring to devour him covetously, but it cleared away and jogged at the side of him.

_I'd think so if you didn't look like you do. _Danny simpered, but turned around anyways, betting his friend had a huge headache too ("from the _special _weekend") and just before reaching his own office he offered, "Tylenol or Aspirin?"

But Steve had already gone astray, sited behind his desk, a peak of formalities inspecting him like a monster monster menacing to wolf him down any minute.

Gaudy lights and flashing walls in slow motion, rushing past him.

The minutes turned into unbearably long millenniums and he fucking couldn't contemplate, it was as if he had … mixed alcohol with cough syrup. Hell, what had he been thinking? It was commonly known that this combination was evil. With whom had he been drinking anyway? He squeezed his eyes and massaged his forehead and temples while wiping the sweat daring to trickle off his head away.

"Hey babe, you want to come along with us, grabbing some bites?"

Steve's head popped up from his paperwork, seeing Danny in the doorway, arms folded over the chest.

"No, you just go ahead." The mere deliberation about food made him nauseous.

He sniffed and turned his attention back to the official procedure, but he sensed his friend's eyes examining him.

"Danny, I've got to work now."

"Yeah, I can see that. You need to eat, Steve. It's almost noon and I don't think you ate the day through."

_Noon? _He peeked down at his wristwatch, then at his counter and he was astounded to learn he had only completed two reports. _What the fuck? _

"What are you, my mother? I'm not hungry, okay?"

"Alright, alright," the blonde raised his hands in defeat, "but don't think you can get me into bringing something along just because your lazy ass…"

"_Danny!_ I don't need nothing and you won't need to get something for me!" The irritation in his throat caused by the hoist of his voice made him cough before he had the chance to smother this urge. Fortunately, a bottle was located on his desk and drank a few sips, but unfortunately, his stomach wasn't that contented with the cold water and Steve immediately knew it was a losing battle.

He swallowed a few times and strived to maintain a cool face, "so? Would you please just go and leave me alone? I can't deal with you and your maternal habits now."

Danny, having basically inspected the development, cocked an eyebrow, stuck out his lower lip and nodded.

"Fine."

Shit.

The Jersey Native vanished into dust.

Or he was just still heavily drunk.

Danny was barely out as he scuttled past him, soaring to the restroom, he propelled a stall door open, sinking to his knees just in time for the leftovers to plunge into the toilet. After a few seconds he heaved heavily, but the smell of his barf made him bent over again.

"Steve?"

_Shit!_

He composed himself, he flushed the toilet, the noise boring smoldering black abysses into his skull, he towed himself resignedly to his swaying feet, his hands trembled significantly, he lurched to the outlying washbowl. After washing his mouth and face with the water, he squinted deplorably into the mirror, which revealed a certain individual residing in the rear of him.

"Hey, Steve, you need to go home." His voice was smooth and mellifluous, the one he saved for the victims or their families. Did he really look this bad?

"I'm fine."

Danny's jaw tightened and he clenched and unclenched his fists, trying to preserve his serenity.

"_Steven,_" he snarled at the end of his tether, "you shouldn't be working with his _hangover_. Look at you! For all I know you just puked into the damn toilet and that's not fine!"

"I've got a fucking hangover!"

"Then fucking go to bed!"

"I don't need no bed, I need to work!"

"Oh, this is a matter of life and death now? Okay, then just go on like this and we'll see where you end up!"

Danny was spinning, the mirror was spinning, the room was spinning, he was spinning, he reeled forward and vomited all of his last's week food on the spot next to him, barely missing his own body, he coughed deeply, he couldn't breathe, he was drowning ohgod he needed to do something, _Danny _needed to do something, but he really dematerialized this time, but he needed him, he was his friend, ohgod he was drowning ohgodohgod!

The brightness of the world was devastating and crushing and deluging. The blue, cloudless sky, the lambent sun, the irradiated boat coruscating with driblets of pea shaped water droplets.

He was still alive.

And on the boat.

Drowning on his vomit.

He coiled to regurgitate, his stomach constricted and he contorted like an au naturel shrimp, everything hurt, was contused and bleeding, he was scarred and scraped, warped and marred, buffeted by the waves and wind.

He would get up soon. He would find a way to get up soon. He just needed to doze a bit. It would do him good.

H50

I hope you got Steve had a flashback and not some kind of time travel or whatever :D


End file.
